


Miles Gets a Haircut

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haircuts, Hairvolution, Happy Miloe, M/M, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Oral Sex, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smutty crack prompted by the Hairvolution on Tumblr.  Charlie and Rachel solicit Bass's help to stage a much needed hair intervention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles Gets a Haircut

Miles followed Charlie into the bedroom. Rachel was slumped in a chair, looking drunk but resolute with a half empty bottle of whiskey beside her.  As he moved to her side to check on her, Charlie closed and locked the door. 

"What's going on?" he asked. 

"This is an intervention," Charlie answered.  

Miles looked at her with puzzlement.  "An intervention for who?  For what?"

Bass emerged from the shadows of the corner and spoke.  "For you.  You look like you're being skull fucked by a wet Pomeranian.  It's so bad your women found me and asked me to help fix this mess."

"There's nothing so bad that they'd take help from you," Miles said, looking to Charlie for confirmation.  She shrugged in response.  

"It's bad.  Mom said he was able to help you once before when you almost got thrown out of the Marines for hair crimes."

Bass smiled with a glint in his eye.  "It's the same choice as before.  We can hold you down and shave it, or we can do fingercuffs.  What will it be?" 

"Shaved," Rachel slurred.  "Tackle him and shave it." 

"Touch my hair and I'll kill you all," Miles threatened.  

"No," Bass replied.  "You won't. You've spent too much time keeping us alive to end us all over that scratty, 70's porn bush you call a hairstyle.  So, do you want it the hard way or the fun way?"

Miles glowered at him.  "As I remember it, the fun way got a little hard."

"I'll consider being gentle, princess, but that's not how you like it.  Who gets the scissors?"

Miles said, "You didn't hire a barber?"

"I lost my stylist in the coup and your gang blew up the tower barber.  It's just me, Rachel, and Charlie today.  Decide who you want where."

Miles considered the possibilities.  He didn't trust Rachel with scissors when she was sober, she'd been entirely too stabby recently, and right now he doubted she could stand if she wanted to.  That left the scissors to either Charlie or Bass and while he felt sure Charlie would know a few things by the end of this session, he was confident that Bass knew what he needed already.  "Rachel in the chair.  Charlie gets the scissors." 

"Really?" Charlie beamed.  "Thanks Miles!"

"Charlie, do you even know what's about to happen?" 

"Mom just said that one of us would cut your hair and the other two would help you relax."

Rachel's head rolled forward to give Miles a wobbly smile.  "I'm already pretty relaxed, but if you'll help me get these pants off I'll sit here and relax some more." 

Miles dropped to his knees in front of her, tugged off her pants and underwear in one motion and buried his face in her lower curls. He quickly came back up and demanded, "Give me the scissors.  I'm not going to smother in this jungle while getting a haircut."  Charlie handed him the scissors and her eyes grew wide as her mother grew more exposed.  Miles handed back the scissors and proceeded to lap at her like a kitten at a bowl of milk.  

Charlie stared, barely blinking, her moist lips gently parted as she gasped for breath. 

Bass watched her confusion with a smile. When their eyes met he said, “Don't just stand there, cut.”

Charlie didn't move, her eyes transfixed on her uncle laboring over her mother's recently defoliated bush as her mother slid lower and lower in the chair. Bass approached Charlie from behind, wrapping his arms around her to grasp each of her hands in his. He guided her to her knees and together they leaned in close to Miles. They slid a lock of his hair between their fingers, smoothing it and holding it flat, and then together they cut away the spoiled excess. Charlie shuddered, gasped and let her head fall back on Bass's shoulder. 

“That was amazing,” she whispered. 

“Do it again,” Bass ordered. When they could see Miles's neck, the recently exposed tissue pale and vulnerable, Bass moved away and let Charlie continue her ministrations on her own. Bass turned his attention to Miles's state of excess dress. With only Rachel bottomless, the whole scene seemed wildly kinky. Clearly more nudity would normalize everything. As he untied and tugged off Miles's boots, a bitch of a job when the other man was on all fours, he gently caressed Miles's ankles and massaged his feet. When Miles gave in to the sensations, moaning in pleasure as he continued his work on Rachel, Bass pulled Charlie to him and whispered to her, “Cut around his ears next.” 

Bass then moved to Miles's pants, stroking the straining erection beneath as he worked the button and zipper open. He caressed the firm planes of Miles's ass as he worked off his pants. Miles cooperated, lifting each knee in turn.

“Lover,” Bass said, stroking Miles's puckered opening with a single lubed finger, “I see you haven't had much fun since the last time I saw you.” Gently Bass penetrated him, working to prepare him for what would come. He wanted Miles to appreciate the rewards of coiffure cooperation and too much too quickly would seem like punishment. 

“Ow,” Miles cried out.

“Sorry, baby,” Bass said. His digit retreated and he planted a gentle kiss on Miles's clenched bottom. 

“Not you. Her,” Miles said, gesturing to Charlie. “She cut my ear.”

“Sorry,” said Charlie, blushing and dabbing at the wound with the hem of her shirt. “I was just, um, distracted. Is this really how they do haircuts in the Marines?” 

Bass bit his lip and looked away. Miles hefted Rachel back from the edge of the chair before sitting back on his heels and staring at Charlie. He rubbed his hands over his head, manually inspecting the hair he couldn't see. The back and one side had been roughly trimmed. The top was untouched. He considered his options before answering. 

“Yes, I had my hair cut like this while I was a Marine. It had to be shorter then, but this will do for now. It looks sort of skater punk, right?”

“It looks like a roadkill toupee,” Bass answered. “Charlie, give me the scissors and get the purple strap on out of the backpack.” 

Miles rolled his eyes. “First, I can't believe you have the backpack.” 

Bass interjected, “Neville left it behind. I guess he has his own gear.” 

“Second,” Miles continued, “The tiny little purple one? Really? What, am I twelve years old?” 

“You feel like it,” Bass said. 

“Oh my God, what is this?” Charlie exclaimed as she dug through the backpack. She held up the polished leather, crank and clockwork powered device the boys had christened “El Diablo.” It glistened with menace and promise. 

“Put that down,” Miles ordered. Bass chuckled and walked over to Charlie's side. With experienced hands he attached the purple dildo to the pegging harness and helped Charlie buckle it on. When he was done she smiled down at the lovesword jutting triumphantly ahead of her. 

“Hi little buddy,” she said, waving to her newly installed member. Bass took her hand and poured oil into it. 

“Stroke yourself,” he ordered. Charlie reached down and began to eagerly jack off her new toy. The boys watched her smile grow as she realized this device had more to offer her than cheerful good looks. Her strokes to the shaft rubbed the wearer's side pleasure nubs against her clit and opening. 

“Miles, on the bed. Ass at the edge,” Bass ordered. Miles complied. Rachel, now completely unsupported, slid out of the chair to the floor and curled up into a snoring ball. They ignored her. Bass led Charlie, still enchanted by her purple impaler, across the room. He lifted Miles's legs over her shoulders and used pillows to align Charlie's weapon with its target. Bass snuck a kiss on her neck as he whispered, “Have at it.” 

Bass studied the scene for a moment, watching the sensations cross each of their faces. Charlie's expression was a mix of surprise and joy. Miles's countenance was more mixed. 

“How is she?” Bass whispered in Miles's ear as he trimmed the hairs framing his face. 

“Young,” Miles whispered back. “All enthusiasm and no technique.” 

“Are you ready to show me some technique?” Bass asked. He didn't wait for an answer before he moved to straddle Miles's face. He felt strong, rough hands guiding and shifting him as needed as his nethers were skillfully pleasured. It took all his concentration to keep the haircut even on the top. Finally, Bass set the scissors aside, satisfied that the Wookie was once again Han Solo. 

“How is it?” Miles said, his tongue darting out to lick Bass's slit and savoring the early evidence of his excitement. 

“You're magnificent,” Bass purred. 

“Yeah, I know. But how's my hair?”

Charlie's cries cut off any further discussion. A rosy blush covered her glistening skin and her breasts bounced as she worked towards her finale. She threw back her head and keened, exhaling in puffs that sent the stray hairs across her face flying skyward. Her vigorous final thrusts left Miles flinching. 

Bass smiled gently at his friend's pinched face. “All enthusiasm and no technique, huh?” 

“She looks happy,” Miles answered. 

“How can I make you happy?” Bass asked trailing a finger toward Miles's now considerably more open hole. 

“Not that,” Miles warned, grabbing his hand. “But your mouth is as good as mine.” 

After a quick trim of Miles's other copse of overgrown, unruly locks, four hands and two tongues moved in a well rehearsed acrobatic ballet of pleasure. Charlie watched as her uncle and his lover crashed into sensual release together. She wondered if either virgin or barber was an accurate way to describe her now and decided it didn't really matter. She was happy, and her uncle no longer looked like a tornado blown muppet.

**Author's Note:**

> Crit con is welcome. I'd never even read fan fiction, much less slash, until three months ago so your advice is genuinely appreciated. My apologies if I broke Miloe. Much like Winnie the Pooh, I am stuffed with fluff.


End file.
